Magic - Part 2

Sirus took care to lock the door before he chose his equipment. It was almost night and the sun was falling fast, but he had to be careful not to be spotted that night. His target would surely have friends who would seek to follow the kidnapper and do harm if they knew who it was. Also, the foxtailed man knew his target would be 'home' by the time the sun lost its battle and was swallowed up by the horizon. He waited the appropriate amount of time in contemplation of the evening. His horse, and a second mare, were stabled below in the inn's stables. Sirus had paid the stableboy a visit, and knew the horses would be fully saddled and ready to go by midnight. When the sun finally dropped and darkness decended, Sirus unlocked his window and opened it. The cool evening wind washed through the room, blowing back the blinds. It was a refreshing breeze, erasing memories of the previous night, a hot, sticky evening completely at logical odds with the geography of the area.

Sirus paused to open the drawer below the table then quickly changed from his imperial robes into more comfortable attire. The number of knives on the table had doubled to twenty four knives now resting within arm's reach. Donning his tight leather boots, more appropriate for a trapeze artist or theif than a bounty hunter, Sirus began fitting his knives into various hiding spots on his body. One fit easily below each wrist, two in each boot, two on each thigh, six sat in two careful rows on the right side of his belt. Six he tied spaced out to the strings on the base of his cloak. They hung down like feathers while the cloak lay on the back of a chair. The kitsune was ever mindful of his tail, and he made certain to tie the last two knives to his tail, making it more a weapon than a distraction. He fastened the two swords to his left side, wrapped the face mask around his mouth and over the arc of his nose, through a wound rope over his shoulder, picked up the hand crossbow in one hand, the javelin-like spear in his other hand, and departed through the open window into the black night.

Darkness would have been his friend in such a position as he now found himself in, but the moon had decided that the night would be a good time to shine like a bloody demon. It was one of those nights of magic, when the Wild Hunt would ride out through the lands, scaring peasants and reaffirming that yes, fairies still existed. Stories like that were just legends up north, but where Sirus came from in the south, they were fact. He marvelled silently at how quickly fact became legend when it seemed too extraordinary to contemplate. Not only was the night almost as bright as day, but the moon rose in all of its proud glory, a full moon. On a distant building a cat stood admiring the scene. Sirus scowled at it, his kitsune instincts kicking in. He didn't like cats or neko anymore than any others of his race. But eager to be on his way, and with the full moon in mind, he silently hoped, as he dropped from the rooftop, that there were no werewolves this far north.

He dropped his spear before he hit the ground, letting his cloak act to slow him and his knees crumple to absorb the fall. Kneeling, the kitsune looked back and forth to make sure no one had spotted him before picking up his spear and sprinting down the length of the street. This late at night, no one was out. They would be eating dinner, dicing in the taverns, maybe even frolicking with one of the maids, but wouldn't be on the streets. Only a madman or a brave man went walking the streets on a full mooned night like this. Thanks to superstition, people wouldn't even look outside their windows that night, afraid they might somehow attract evil's attention. Sirus couldn't have timed his strike better. Yet always when a character starts thinking thoughts such as these, something comes along to spoil it and prove them wrong.

Sirus caught the noise of a gang around the next corner, and the moonlight glinted blue-toned from a series of violent looking weapons. This won't do, Sirus thought unhappily. His plans had been spoiled for the night and he would be late thanks to this. It appeared, upon putting his head around the corner, that a group of ruffians had cornered a cloaked figure, a girl probably no older than Sirus himself. They were proposing rather indecent suggestions, as well as your standard run-of-the-mill, "Give us yer money, girl, or we'll cut yer throat!" speech. There was an easy way to deal with the men, then there was a theatrical way. Sirus had always been fond of theatrics though.

He stepped into the light. "Now now, gentlemen. That is no way to treat a lady." The villains turned as they heard the courtly accent. All that faced them seemed to be a shadow, a black clothed kitsune as they could spot from his ears.

"Haha, son," the oldest of the group said. Scarred and crop-cut, he looked like the leader. "You're goin' to want to back away nice an' easy. We don' want no trouble from folk like you. An' you don't want no trouble from us." The others grunted in a form of gutteral laughter, or snickering. Sirus wasn't sure which. Another of the bandits had snuck up close to the back of the kitsune, thinking himself hidden from view. He obviously wanted trouble from 'folk like Sirus', though the leader had specified otherwise.

Tipping his head to the side, the kitsune cocked his eyebrow, "alright then, have it your way." He spun on his left heel, cloak and tail spinning out and slashing the closest bandit in the shin. The other criminals were slow to react, yet moved immediately out to encircle their attacker. Still using the momentum of his spin, Sirus threw his spear straight and true, impaling one of the bandits before stepping close to another and slashing at its throat. The bandit let out a low gurgling sound and fell to the ground, suitably chastised. Sirus flicked out his arms and two throwing knives spun through his fingers before being launched at the throats of another two bandits. Now there were four left. The leader drew a hand crossbow from his cloak, aiming it not at the bounty hunter, but rather at their victim. The girl stood perfectly still as the bolt trained on her.

Crossbow in hand, the bandit leader smiled though Sirus was poised to throw a knife at another bandit. "Well, well, well, looks like we've got ourselves at an impasse." He spoke the last word slowly, sounding out each syllable. Sirus guessed that the leader may have been a scholar, driven out by hard times, resorting to street gangs. Or of course, he could just be a bandit leader who picked up the word by chance, probably from an 'impasse' with a now dead noble.

It was a dilemma certainly. Sirus had no want to kill the leader, though he would undoubtedly prove trouble later on. But he also wished to save the girl, who was not in the most fortuitous of circumstances at that moment. Ironically enough, it was the girl who broke the stalemate, saving herself and Sirus. While the bandit leader was busy concentrating on Sirus, the girl had been working her hands in the air. It looked as if she was scribbling, or drawing, or something. Sirus had barely half a second's warning as the place the girl was scribbling grew bright as the sun and shot out, blowing the bandit leader into the stone wall of the building behind him. Fine mortar powder trickled onto his head as he coughed up blood and fell in a heap. Sirus was stunned. The girl is a mage? And of destruction magic too? She's more rare than she looks. Though of course he couldn't see her face, hidden as it was by a heavy hood. From the rest of what he could see though, she cut a fine figure, especially in skin-tight cloths. Silk perhaps?

The other bandits were not so 'rooted to the spot stunned' as Sirus was. With frantic calls of "Witch!", "Devil spawn!" and "Demon!" they ran screaming down the street, turned the corner and were soon gone. The girl turned back to Sirus. He half expected her to destroy him where he stood. Instead she laughed. "Thank you stranger." Her voice had a strange, musical quality to it. "You saved my hide just then. I'd run out of power and those men happened to think it would be a good time to take advantage of the situation." She pushed back her hood, revealing the most beautiful face Sirus had ever seen. He almost felt enchanted by her beauty, and he was wary not to fall into any trap she might have laid, using the bandits as bait. He still had enough enemies to occasion a look over his shoulder every so often. "My name is Siarra," she said, "and yours?" She pushed the hood off of her head and Sirus couldn't, wouldn't believe what he saw. Couldn't believe his bad luck.

Siarra was a neko.